


Boundaries

by Tedronai



Series: Complex Games [3]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/pseuds/Tedronai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taim hadn't got where he was in the world without pushing a few boundaries, crossing a few lines every now and then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boundaries

Taim lay on his back, staring up at the dark crimson canopy of Moridin’s great four-poster bed, his legs tangled in likewise crimson sheets, the sweat covering his body cooling rapidly and for a brief moment he was aware of the chill before he distanced his mind from the sensation. He didn’t tug the sheet up to cover himself properly; soon enough he would have to get up and leave — and he certainly didn’t _want_ to stay for longer than that — but right now he just wanted to not have to move for a while longer.

The Forsaken next to him was likewise still, and had he not known he was there, Taim might have thought he was alone in the bed. Taim was used to it. Sometimes Moridin said not a word afterwards and Taim just… left, to be summoned again whenever the _nae’blis_ required his company.

 _Company._ Taim’s mouth twitched briefly in something that was neither a smile nor a grimace. _That’s one word for it._ It may have started in an almost-companionable way, with the games of _sha’rah_ , but lately the vast majority of their meetings had taken place in the bedroom, other kinds of games all but forgotten. _Well, boardgames at least_ , Taim corrected the thought. He was certain he was engaged in several different games with the Nae’blis at present and the physical aspect of their relationship was only one of them, quite possibly the most trivial one.

His thoughts were wandering, he realised and tried to focus. Sleep had been a sparse commodity lately, in no small part because of Moridin, but he couldn’t afford to give in to the drowsiness now. They might share the bed with some regularity, but they didn’t _sleep_ together. Forcing himself to move, to remain alert, he ran a hand over his face. He turned his head to look at Moridin; the Forsaken didn’t seem to have moved since he had rolled over to his side of the bed. Only the rise and fall of his chest indicated that the man was even alive; he didn’t even seem to blink.

 

“Who’s Barid?” Taim asked. He had asked that question before, once, and it had not been well received then. He had no reason to believe the Forsaken would be any more willing to part with the information now, but he hadn’t got where he was in the world — _not just Moridin’s bed, but certainly that, too,_ he thought wryly — without pushing a few boundaries, crossing a few lines every now and then.

“None of your concern,” came the flat reply.

Taim arched an eyebrow, which Moridin of course couldn’t see, and went on casually, “Even when you keep calling me his name?”

Moridin froze; if Taim had thought he was still before, now he might have been carved from stone, to the extent that for several long seconds the Forsaken didn’t seem to even breathe. Never had a silence felt so all-encompassing. Taim almost began to wonder if the world had stopped altogether, when finally Moridin inhaled again. “I keep calling you… Barid.” It was not a question, and for once Taim was genuinely unsure whether the other man expected him to answer or not.

He chose a non-answer to the non-question. “You were not aware..?”

A slight frown creased the other man’s brow. “You think I would do that on purpose?” he asked, sounding more curious than affronted.

Taim shrugged, a gesture which was more than a bit awkward while lying down. “I wouldn’t know, would I?” he replied. In the name of honesty — and wasn’t that a thought — he had to add, “Maybe not on purpose. Maybe you just didn’t care that I knew I was a substitute.” He realised that he didn’t really think that was the case, but it was a possibility.

“No,” Moridin said after another long stretch of silence. “I was not aware.”

When it became apparent that the nae’blis was not going to continue, Taim spoke again. “And you’re not going to tell me who he is. Or was,” he added as an afterthought; after all, Barid might well be someone three thousand years dead. And wasn’t that a surreal thought. “Very well,” he went on. “Fear not, I’m not delusional enough to imagine for one moment that our… arrangement… is based on anything more than convenience. But I might have hoped that you could keep in mind who you’re—” He cut off with a grimace, hearing the anger in his voice. Raising one’s voice at the Nae’blis generally did not end well. He needed to rein in his temper; he was making it sound… _personal_.

And of course it _was_ personal. If the other man was calling someone else’s name while in bed with Taim… He bristled at the thought. It was allowed to sting his ego, but the emotion he had heard creeping into his voice had had a different flavour entirely. One he wasn’t sure he had a name for, and that in itself was more than mildly alarming. Whatever it was, the implications were not something he cared to think about.

 

There was a rustle of sheets as Moridin finally turned to face Taim. The _saa_ filled the blue eyes; although Taim was used to it, the sight was never a comfortable one. “Barid Bel Medar,” the Forsaken said softly. “That was his name.” He regarded Taim for a while as if expecting a reaction.

From the context Taim was beginning to guess where this was going, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. “I never had much in the way of formal education,” he said lightly, carefully suppressing any any signs of resentment at said lack. “The name tells me nothing.”

Moridin gave him a small, irritated frown. “You know him as Demandred.”

Taim couldn’t quite suppress a surprised snort. Then again, he supposed it had to have been one of the Forsaken or at least someone from the Age of Legends; why would it surprise him so much that it was the one he had met first? Only that he couldn’t imagine the stiff and reserved Demandred engaging in the kind of physical powerplay that Moridin seemed to enjoy. The image came unbidden to his mind and refused to leave. _Damn._ He almost shook his head before he caught himself. Moridin was still watching him, now with what could only be called a bemused expression.

“You and Demandred…” Taim managed.

Moridin let out a low chuckle, entirely unlike anything Taim had heard from him before. “Oh, no, we were never lovers.”

“But you wanted to?” Taim asked; he was about to take full advantage of the Nae’blis _’_ chatty mood while it lasted.

Moridin’s expression turned wry. “Not that I was aware of at least,” he said.

“So then why?”

The silence stretched on for so long that Taim began to think Moridin was not going to answer. Then, the Nae’blis finally spoke. “You remind me of him, sometimes.” There it was again, that almost wistful tone, but it was gone when he continued, “You should leave, you’ll want to get some sleep what’s left of tonight.”

“You should, too.” Taim cast an evaluating look at the other man. “When was the last time you slept?”

The Forsaken blinked. “That is none of your concern—”

Taim snorted. “Oh, concern doesn’t come into it, believe me,” he said, interrupting Moridin.

To his shock, the Forsaken smiled. “Oh, but it does,” Moridin said. His voice took on a lecturing tone, of all things, tinged with amusement. “If not exactly concern for my well-being. You’re concerned about what happens to you and your precious Black Tower if it turns out that you’ve attached yourself to a mentally unstable master. The others are constantly looking for ways to bring down the current Nae’blis — don’t imagine I am not aware — and right now you’re afraid that they might have a better chance of that than you initially judged. And where would that leave you? Demandred is far too busy elsewhere—” Of course Moridin wouldn’t let slip Demandred’s whereabouts, even as distracted as he appeared. “—Mesaana would have you running and fetching for the children who call themselves the _Black Ajah_ —” There was definite contempt in his voice at that. “—and Graendal…” The Forsaken actually smirked. “Not that you meet her criteria, anyway.”

“Was that supposed to sting?” Taim asked. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

Moridin merely raised his eyebrows at that. “Perhaps I will. Some other time. However, the point I was making is that I am your best chance of gaining a position that will satisfy your…” He trailed off, and suddenly the amusement in the _saa_ -infested, blue eyes took on a more intense quality. “…Ambition,” he finished the sentence. “ _Really_ , Mazrim. I only need to mention _satisfying positions_ to distract you?”

“I am not distracted,” Taim replied, firmly pushing aside any further thoughts of, well, _satisfying positions_. It would take more than that to faze a Saldaean. “Although it undoubtedly was your intention. Now, tell me, and bear in mind that you’re talking to the one person in the world who has no reason to want you dead… Is there anything I can do?” The question did not sound natural to his own ears. Speaking the words was quite possibly the single hardest thing he had done since kneeling before al’Thor upon their first meeting. In Taim’s world, help was neither offered nor asked for; either only led to disappointment at best or embarrassment at worst, with potentially deadly scenarios of betrayal somewhere in between.

 

Moridin was staring at him — or perhaps through him — with a tiny frown, as if trying to decide whether to be angry or not. That was perhaps the most alarming sign; Taim had fully expected a sharp retort at the very least. Finally Moridin spoke again. “When you found me asleep.” The answer didn’t seem to have anything to do with the question, but Taim was used to the Nae’blis’ mind making leaps and connections that at first wouldn’t make much sense to anyone who wasn’t inside his head, and so he waited for him to elaborate. “You asked when was the last time I slept,” Moridin added with a faint smile that said he knew exactly what Taim was thinking.

 _Oh._ “That’s…” _Not particularly healthy._ “Five days ago.” And he couldn’t have slept for more than a few hours then. “And I take it the fact that we’re having this conversation in the first place means that even you haven’t found a way to eliminate the need for sleep entirely.”

The answering snort was heavy with contempt. “If only,” Moridin said, and now Taim could hear the bone-deep weariness in his voice. “Alas, this body is still human.”

Taim didn’t ask what he considered the rest of him to be if not human; he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer even if the Forsaken was willing to elaborate. “There are herbs that could help…” He trailed off; he was sounding patronising and that was the last thing he wanted, but how exactly did one have this conversation without sounding patronising to some degree? Again, he had the feeling that the other man knew exactly what he was thinking. _Right. Time to push some more boundaries._ “I even know of a couple of weaves that could be used for the purpose.” A lifetime ago he had used such weaves to make sure the owners of a house didn’t wake up while he was rummaging through their kitchen or something equally desperate. He’d done what he’d had to, to survive. Pride had not been a thing he could afford, back then.

Moridin considered the words for a while. Taim could see he was none too happy about the situation, but he was also a rational man when it came down to it. “Show me that weave,” he said eventually. Taim did as he was told. Moridin inspected the weave and his expression turned wry. “What exactly have you been using that on? Helpless children?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “It will only put anyone to sleep if they’re completely unsuspecting and unaware. Then again, I did just describe the majority of the people of this Age, so I might as well not be surprised that it worked for you.”

“Glad to hear you think so highly of us,” Taim said and released the Power; he refused to let himself be provoked by the criticism, not now.

The look Moridin gave him told him clearer than words that the Forsaken didn’t think the remark worthy of a response. “What you have here,” Moridin continued, “is a suggestive weave. I understand those are common among what the Aes Sedai of this Age call _wilders_. Your weave… _persuades_ the subject’s mind to go to sleep. Or, if the subject is already asleep, it encourages them to stay that way despite potential disturbances. Yes, I could see that working. However, to have an effect on someone who’s awake, the subject would have to be either completely clueless or willing to co-operate.”

“And by co-operation you mean…” Taim prompted, sensing that there was more to the matter than simple consent.

Approval flashed in the ancient eyes. “By co-operation I mean lowering all the mental defences that are as much a part of who I am as, say, the colour of my eyes.” He grimaced slightly. “Even more so, actually, all things considered.” He closed his eyes and ran a hand across his face. Then he looked at Taim again. “Very well.”

“…Very well?” Taim asked, not entirely sure he understood right.

“I suppose one could argue I have more to gain if this works, than to lose if it doesn’t,” Moridin said dryly.

 _Yes_ , Taim thought, _if it doesn’t work the only thing that will happen is a dent to my ego. And it has survived worse._ Still, he felt more than a little apprehensive as he reached across the pillows to lay a hand on Moridin’s forehead; as if by reflex, Moridin brought his own hand up to grip Taim’s wrist. Taim arched an eyebrow, and whatever Moridin’s original intention had been, he didn’t move Taim’s hand away. The physical contact wasn’t strictly necessary but it made the process easier. Taim drew _saidin_ again.

“…Should I be worried?” Moridin asked, his tone that of idle curiosity.

“Beg your pardon?” Taim replied without pausing in his channelling.

“Your hand is shaking.”

 _Oh._ “Shut up,” he muttered distractedly and focused on the weave. It settled into place and now all there was to it was to maintain the weave until it either took effect or turned out to be a ridiculous waste of time. It spoke volumes about the magnitude of the problem that Moridin was willing to go through something like this in the first place. Taim withdrew his hand, but Moridin didn’t release his grip on his wrist. Instead, he pulled Taim closer as he turned to lie on his back again. Lying so close to the Forsaken, his arm draped across Moridin’s chest, was not the most comfortable place in the world. Physical intimacy during sex was one thing, but this had the feel of another kind of intimacy altogether, and the mere thought made Taim want to recoil. But he held still, and eventually he could feel a change in the other man’s breathing as Moridin finally fell asleep.

 

Taim must have dozed off — he certainly hadn’t meant to; he’d meant to get back to the Black Tower as soon as humanly possible — because the next thing he knew he was woken by the sharp sting of fingernails digging into his forearm. He gasped, disoriented and confused, trying to determine where the attack was coming from—

Until he realised where he was. He began to formulate an apology — he’d meant to be long gone — but then he looked at Moridin and realised that the Forsaken was still fast asleep. Well, that was something. He gently pried his arm from Moridin’s grip, grimacing slightly at the row of visible marks left by the other man’s nails. What was the Forsaken dreaming of? No, Taim decided he didn’t actually want to know. He got out of bed and began to look for his clothes. He dressed quickly and was about to leave, when a sound caught his attention. Moridin… _laughed_. Curious despite himself, Taim approached the bed again and listened as the Forsaken began to mutter incoherently. It took him a moment to realise that it wasn’t gibberish but the Old Tongue; Taim could make out a word here and another there. Something about _death_ , _dream_ was repeated several times, and something that might have been a reference to the Great Lord. Fascination won over caution, and Taim sat on the edge of the bed, listening. Something that might have been Semirhage’s name, and _victory_ was mentioned several times; was Moridin talking to Semirhage or about her? Once again Taim wished he’d made more of an effort to learn the Old Tongue properly. Then Moridin laughed again, and something about the sound chilled Taim to the bone. With something of a shock he realised that there were tears running down the side of Moridin’s face even as he laughed.

Another realisation followed: if the Forsaken woke up now and found him still there, he might not leave this room alive. But he couldn’t bring himself to move, even after Moridin fell silent again. Watching the sleeping Forsaken, Taim felt a rush of triumph. It took a moment of thought before he could explain it; as bizarre as the night’s events had been, it couldn’t be denied that Moridin had… _trusted_ him. Oh, not _trust_ like most people would understand the word, but… He shook his head—

And then Moridin’s eyes flickered open. Taim froze. “Barid?” the Forsaken muttered. His gaze was unfocused and he was clearly more asleep than awake.

“Yes,” Taim replied. “Just go back to sleep.” Somehow he managed to sound calm despite his heart trying to hammer a hole through his chest. He didn’t dare to relax even after Moridin’s eyes closed again. As soon as he was relatively confident that the Forsaken was fast asleep again, he got up and hurried out of the room. In the corridor outside he channelled a gateway back to the Black Tower. He wondered briefly if what he had just done counted as impersonating one of the Chosen. Not that anyone would ever know. Too exhausted to undress again, he merely shrugged out of his coat and took off his boots before collapsing into bed.

**Author's Note:**

> This happens simultaneously with the beginning of ch. 15 of _The Gathering Storm_ ; when Taim listens to Moridin sleep-talking, Moridin is having his first dream chat with Rand since the awkward Ba'alzamon phase. (I'm way too amused by the idea that while Min is watching Rand sleep, Taim is similarly watching Moridin...)


End file.
